


A little too late.

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little too late, Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, More Of A, Pain, Sherlockrealizes John loved him, hahaha, just some fluff, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	A little too late.

Sherlock marched around the empty flat. The streams of a new dawn were intruding his comfy flat, reminding him that he had missed one more day of sleep. Just one more day to add to the ever growing list of nights he'd missed sleep because of John. 

His dressing gown floated out around him as he stormed around the sitting room, picking up every object that was John's. He held a simple cardboard box in his hands for John's stuff. John had already gotten his stuff from his bedroom when he'd moved out. The first sign John was officially leaving. Sherlock had been in Russia at that point and Mycroft had sent him the simple text of 'Redbeard'. This word had been a code word for loss since early I their lives. 

Redbeard had been Sherlock's childhood dog, and his only friend. They'd done everything together. Everything. Mummy had ever worked it out with Sherlock's teachers to let him bring Redbeard to school. It hadn't been to difficult since Sherlock's private school only had a few students. Redbeard had become Sherlock's emotional companion. Legally. 

As a child, Sherlock had been extremely temperamental and bipolar. The only things that kept him from exploding  were his dog, his brother, and his experiments. Which, coincidentally, had caused him to explode later in life. 

Sherlock had been working on an antidote to Redbeard 's case of 'old'. Redbeard had been slowing down and not wanting to do much anymore and Sherlock was doing everything he could to stop it. Sherlock had injected it into Redbeard and left for school, expecting that his dog would feel better when he got home. 

He had looked for Redbeard for hours after school, every call and pat on his knees filling him with more fear. Sherlock had finally retreated to his room by force of Mycroft, only to find his childhood friend curled up in the closet. Sherlock had filled up with hope when he saw the dog, until he realised he wasn't breathing. Redbeard died from chemical poison. 

In a way, John was Sherlock's new Redbeard. He was his emotional companion. Sherlock had expected they'd be together forever, until things got dangerous. John's life was in danger, so Sherlock tried to clean it up. The fall. Except, John didn't die, he just moved on. Sherlock had been the poison that made John leave. 

Sherlock picked up John's laptop and set it in the box. He'd been surprised to find out that he'd left it, but then he had remembered. The last time John had used it was before the fall. The last night. Their last night together. Sherlock had changed the password. He'd meant it as a note. A hint that Sherlock was still alive. He'd changed the password to 'NOT DEAD'. 

Sherlock pulled out the laptop and sat down at the desk. John's desk. He opened the top and stared at the lock screen. It was a picture of them together after a case. Sherlock had been extremely proud of himself and had taken them both to get Chinese. John had a goofy smile on his face and was wearing his jumper, the one Sherlock had complained so much about but secretly liked. Sherlock sat on the same side and was staring at John, his eyes and cheeks crinkled up into a huge smile as laughed. 

Sherlock remembered that night like a knife in his gut. That had been the night Sherlock had realized he loved John. He'd meant to tell him, but John had had a couple beers and Sherlock was too scared to tell John if it was likely he'd forget. John had been  laughing at a joke Sherlock had told him about bees. Sherlock could remember every word, every expression.

_"John, John, how many bees do you need in a choir?"_

_John finished chewing the piece of steak he was chewing and looked at Sherlock, obviously not prepared for more bee jokes._

_"...A hum-"_

_"A HUMDRED, JOHN. A humdred."_

The case had been about bees and Sherlock wouldn't have solved it unless he had the extenssive knowledge of bees that he did. He had been extremely proud.

Sherlock closed the laptop and set it in he box. No need to look at it now. He stood and searched the desk drawers. Notebooks, pens, pencils. Everything you'd expect to find in A desk drawer. Sherlock dumped the notebooks into the box and walked to the bookshelf.

He pulled down the books and found John's fantasy books that he loved to read. The Hobbit had always been one of his favorites. He even dressed up as Bilbo and had Sherlock dress up as Smaug one year for a comic convention. Sherlock had grumped about it all the way there, but after two days of pure John he couldn't complain on the way back, well, not too much. 

Sherlock put his books in the box, but carried The Hobbit back to his room so he could keep that memory. He set the book on his nightstand and was about to leave his room when his phone buzzed on the table. SherlocK walked back and sat on his bed. 

_'Done getting my stuff? How about meeting up for coffee? -JW'_

Sherlock stared at the message before noticing a paper sticking out from the book. Sherlock picked up the book and opened it to the middle page. A small paper fell out and Sherlock picked it up. A yellow and black bee with 'Bee Mine' written in John's narrow handwriting and then under it, 'Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock' . Sherlock stared at the card for a long moment before setting it on the bed and replying to his phone. 

_'Of course, John. Of course.'_


End file.
